


Headwind's All We've Got

by cassieoh



Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Crowley's trying his best here yall, Gen, Icarus and Deadalus, M/M, Post-Scene: St James's Park 1862 (Good Omens), and Aziraphale is only a little bit lost, and we cant have that, but like, making up after a fight, that would be communicating in a healthy manner, you can't actually say either of those things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/pseuds/cassieoh
Summary: “Remember Daedalus and his boy, blessit what was his name?”Aziraphale isn’t quite sure what to do with Crowley’s almost-friendly tone. They’ve not had a civil conversation since the eighteen-sixties.“Icarus,” he replies, “Such a bright young man.”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902277
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #10 “Velocipede"





	Headwind's All We've Got

**Author's Note:**

> For GTA round #10, prompt "velocipede"

“I can’t believe they’ve done it.” Crowley’s voice is muffled through the thick scarf around his face. It makes the bright hair atop his head stick up in a charmingly disheveled sort of flip that Aziraphale has very carefully not allowed his eyes to linger upon. 

They _are_ fighting after all. 

“Really?” he responds, because it feels like he’s meant to. Then, because he refuses to be the one to break through the thin fog of animosity that hangs between them, he goes on in the tone of voice he knows bothers Crowley most. “It seemed like only a matter of time to me.” 

Crowley takes a few small steps forward. He’s hugging his arms to himself, gloved fingers tucked into his armpits. He can’t seem to look away from the scramble of humans on the beach below. 

There’s something needful and wanting in his gaze and Aziraphale can’t tear his eyes away. 

What, he wonders, can make a demon yearn so? 

“They’ve failed so many times.” Crowley says. He pulls one hand out from under his arm and yanks off the glove, breathing a tiny mote of Hellfire onto it before quickly replacing the glove and repeating it with the other hand. It must gall him to have Hellfire so close at hand when Holy water is so far away, Aziraphale thinks. 

When his gloves are replaced, Crowley continues. “Remember Daedalus and his boy, blessit what was his name?”

Aziraphale isn’t quite sure what to do with Crowley’s almost-friendly tone. They’ve not had a civil conversation since the eighteen-sixties. 

“Icarus,” he replies, “Such a bright young man.” 

“Icarus! Right. Do you know how many hours I spent in that bloody tower?” Crowley cuts his eyes to Aziraphale. There’s something of a smile about the corners of them and Aziraphale wonders if this is all meant to be some sort of apology. 

He’s always appreciated watching humans Great Firsts. He’d been there for the first loaf of bread, the first giggle, the first marriage, the first death. They weren’t always happy occasions, but they were momentous in ways that Aziraphale finds it difficult to put into words. He’s always thought there should be someone in attendance who will remember how it felt long after all the humans involved are gone. 

He learned about all this from an article in his morning paper two weeks previously, tucked away between the troubles in the East and a grain shortage in Kent. 

“Certainly it couldn’t have felt half so many as the trips I made carrying candles up to them,” Aziraphale says when the silence has gone on too long. 

“No,” Crowley responds, “Certainly not.” 

They watch as the humans below shout and dance, throwing their hats in the air and arms around each other. 

The headwind picks up. 

Wings find lift. 

A human being flies. 

Crowley steps just a bit closer to Aziraphale. 

“A good day for it,” he says and Aziraphale knows he doesn’t mean the flight. 

“Yes. Yes, it is.” 


End file.
